Page 74 of Violet Legacy

Chaucer faltered.

Dante slammed into him, forcing the weapon out of his hand before he threw the Atlantean into the nearest statue. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would slow him down.

Unadulterated rage replaced the iciness as he kneeled next to Chaucer, as he fought for control within himself. Now was not the time to give into instinct. He picked up Chaucer’s blaster. It wasn’t fully loaded. He forced down the urge to beat his cousin. It could wait.

A scream ripped through the room.

Rieka.

Dante grabbed his blaster and ran toward the sound. Past the statues, he turned the corner. The faint aroma of amber and rosewood gave him hope he was following the right path. A green silk curtain swayed softly. He headed toward it, slipping past the lightly ash-coated material.

And he froze. There was no sign of Rieka.

Small chunks of marble from what looked like it had been a statue of a woman littered the floor. Half-hidden, a glint of orichalcum peeked through the debris.

Rieka’s pendant.

Dante quickly retrieved it. He palmed the pendant, surprised at its warmth and heaviness. He placed it around his neck, tucking it under his shirt to secure it.

The backpack and the blaster had been placed neatly by the wall. Dante opened the bag and easily found the journal. Bloody handprints were scattered along the coffin. It looked like there had been a massacre. Dante closed his eyes.

Rieka had to be alive. He refused to believe otherwise.

He slowly stood and caught a scent that shouldn’t have been there. A scent he had known all his life—an Atlantean who was closer than most of his blood relatives. He picked up the backpack. “Where is Idris?”

Chaucer dragged his gaze away from the coffin. A hint of regret flashed in his eyes. “I don’t know. This wasn’t part of the plan. Rieka was supposed to be safe.”

It was not what he wanted to hear. Dante moved, pining Chaucer to the wall and lifting him until they were eye level. Chaucer opened his mouth, a gargle coming out.

“You may want to let him breathe, or he will not be able to answer you.” Talik pointed out as he silently walked toward Dante. Khalida followed him into the room.

Dante dropped Chaucer with disgust, standing over his cousin. Talik was right, even if it didn’t abate his burning desire to punish Chaucer. “Your next words will decide your fate. Where has Idris taken Rieka?”

“I don’t know. I’m telling the truth. Rieka was just supposed to lead us to the tomb. Nothing was supposed to happen to her,” Chaucer rasped out. His color slowly returned to normal as he looked between Dante and Talik. “I wouldn’t have agreed to help if she was in danger.”

“Do you believe it?”

Chaucer flinched. “I assumed you would have discarded Rieka as soon as this jaunt was over. She would have found the tomb and then been left with nothing.”

Dante unclenched his fist. Chaucer was trying to goad him into violence. He lowered his voice until only his cousin could hear him. “Think again.”

“I was trying to protect Rieka.”

Chaucer was telling the truth; he couldn’t sense any lies. But Chaucer had willingly put Rieka in danger. That was enough to ensure that he would be punished for his transgression. After he found Rieka.

“There is something underlying Idris’s scent,” Khalida said. “Something that wasn’t there before.” The tip of her sword sliced Chaucer’s neck. The mark was almost invisible except for a single drop of blood. “Unlike you. Your own ambition led you here.”

Chaucer didn’t move or acknowledge Khalida.

“Would she have left of her own volition?” Talik asked.

“Not without the pendant or her mother’s journal.” Rieka guarded them both like they were her greatest treasures.

Chaucer’s eyes widened as he cautiously dragged himself from the ground. “You have it? She let no one else look at it.”

Dante ignored him. The pendant was uncomfortably hot against his skin. “The bracelet, it started to pulse more frequently as we descended.”

It may be the only thing keeping Rieka alive at this point.

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